Favourite
by The Zazu
Summary: Hugo Weasley has many favourites. A series of vignettes, multiple chapters.
1. book

**Favourite  
**_i. book_

Hugo is six, a man with a mission. He slips out of his bed, tiptoes past Rose's bedroom in his slippers, and jumps over the squeaky stair with practised agility. The little Weasley clings to the wall and inches slowly down the hall, eyeing the shadows anxiously. After what seems like eternity, he reaches the door and stole into the room. The room is full of bright light, even at night, and Hugo is comforted by its protective glow. (There are no shadows.) He pads over to his favourite chair, the leather one with the large arms, and stares at awe the books lining the wall. Sometimes at night, when he can't sleep, Hugo likes sitting in his chair and looking at the books. Hugo swings his legs and tries to memorise all the titles, but some of the words are too big.

There is a sound outside and Hugo bites his lip, nervously. Worry creases his chubby features. If Mum and Dad found him down here in this time of night, he _really_ would be in big trouble. And that would mean no flying through the house on his toy broom anymore. Or no visiting Uncle George at the joke shop. Or no pancakes for breakfast, ever. Hugo Weasley shudders at the thought. He looks back at the walls of books, liking the look of the differently textured spines and colours.

Tentatively, Hugo slides off his chair and looks closer at the books, so his nose almost touches the bindings. "Maaark Tw—Twaaain. Mark Twain," Hugo whispers, trying out the different names. He skips the ones that look too difficult. Blue eyes lighting up, he spots a familiar name. Victor! Like Mummy's friend from the pictures! The one who rides a _real_ broom! His eyes widen as another familiar name appears. _Hugo_. "Victor Hugo," the youngest Weasley says in hushed awe. His _own_ name! There are a few books with that name and Hugo decides to pull out the smaller one. There is a picture of a gargoyle on the cover and Hugo stares at it with saucer-like eyes, a little fearful. He hesitantly opens to the first page. Nothing happens.

Sighing in relief, the little boy climbs back to his chair with the book (_Notre-Dame de Paris_) in tow. He isn't as good at reading as Rose, but he still wants to try. Flipping through the pages, Hugo frowns stubbornly at the foreign words, even looking at the text cross-eyed in attempt to decipher the French. He brightens considerably at the vivid pictures at the beginning of each chapter and is amazed with the vivid colours and the grotesque features of the gargoyles. (Do gargoyles really exist? He makes the decision to ask Mummy at breakfast.) He shudders at Quasimodo's ugliness and quails as the pictures get delightfully scarier. He is unsure if he understands any of the story, but figures he can again ask Mummy to read it to him at bedtime tomorrow.

Slowly, the small font starts blurring. Yawning largely, Hugo closes his eyes. In his last waking moments, he decides that this is his most favourite book.

After all, it has his name.

-

_Author's Note_: Notre-Dame de Paris is known as the Hunchback of Notre Dame in English. Anyway, I haven't seen many Hugo-fics out there, so do enjoy. Poor Hugo – who is just _so_ endearing – doesn't even have a character tag on this website! How depressing! Also, the second chapter (_uncle_) has already been written and will be posted within the next few days. The following pieces will be a bit longer. And do review -- it would genuinely make my day. _Au revoir!_


	2. uncle

**Favourite  
**_ii. uncle_

Every holiday, Hugo perches on the rocking chair near his grandparents' fireplace, patiently watching all his relatives tumble out of the stone hearth. Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur are always first. Uncle Bill always walks out with a crooked a smile and a hair ruffle for both him and his father. This year, Aunt Fleur walks out with baby Louis in her arms, a little doll with a puff of blonde hair. Victoire (_old, elegant, responsible) _glides out with Dominique (_everything opposite_) who is complaining quite loudly. Victoire pinches his cheek and Dominique coos over his curly brown hair; in response, Hugo scowls and crosses his arms defiantly. He is _not_ a baby. The first Weasley family drifts into the kitchen.

Hugo rocks back and forth in the chair, waiting.

Uncle Charlie is next, accompanied by his girlfriend Padma Patil. "Hi, Uncle Charlie! Padma!" Hugo flashes the exotic couple with a shy smile. Grinning broadly, Charlie picks him up with his strong, protective arms and swings him around: Uncle and nephew laugh and roar with delight. Padma (should he call her Aunt? Miss?) greets him gently and slips him a few chocolate frogs and a hug, before following Charlie into the growing throng of Weasleys. Hugo Weasley nibbles secretly on a chocolate frog, hoping to Merlin his Mum wouldn't find him. (She didn't approve of sweets before dinner.)

The rest of the family suddenly appears in a cloud of loud chatter and wet scarves. Cousin Teddy and Victoire make a beeline for each other; Hugo makes a disgusted face. If Uncle Bill only knew what they were up to in broom closet… The little Weasley waves at James, who gestures to his bag of dung bombs with a wink. His younger brother, Albus, merely shakes his head and sighs, putting his nose back into his book. Idly, Hugo wonders if Albus was trying to read in even the Floo. Lily Potter bounces out of the fireplace and wraps him in a huge hug. Hugo squirms away from his cousin and glares at Aunt Ginny who is giggling. Lily makes a face and runs to Hugo's sister, Rose, to talk about "girl stuff." 'Sounds dangerous,' Hugo thinks with a shudder. Uncle Harry is chatting with Aunt Luna – who looks strangely large to Hugo – and Uncle George. Hugo's small chest swells with pride. Not everyone has such a warm, loving family.

Then he frowns. There is still someone missing and Hugo feels suddenly sad. Hugo's stomach growls loudly. Maybe he can wait just a _tad_ longer—

"Hugo Arthur, your dinner is getting cold!" Mum bustles into the room, arms akimbo. "Aren't you hungry?" She gives him a dubious look. Hugo sits still in the rocking chair, stubbornly watching the fireplace. "He isn't going to come, you know," she says quietly, kneeling beside him, stroking her son's brown curls gently.

"He _promised_." Hugo aims a reproachful look at his mother. Clearly, she did not that promises were unbreakable... right? The small boy quashes his scepticism and turns back to watch the hearth. His stomach protests his decision with a rumble. Hermione Weasley sighs. He, almost unfortunately, inherited her stubbornness. Seeing his determination, she doesn't have the heart to tell him that words of promise were simply just that – words.

"If you don't come to dinner soon, Rose will get the first, and the biggest, piece of your grandmum's apple pie," she threatens, trying to distract him.

"Muuuuummmm! You wouldn't do that! That's always my piece!" Hugo objects, but his mum stands firm. Tears abruptly fill his eyes. It isn't _fair_! He falls silent for a moment, as if considering the options. Then, shrugging unsurely, he slides off the chair and follows Hermione into the kitchen (_laughter, warm, together_) with lowered eyes. Hugo sends one last, tearful look to the cold fireplace.

At dinner, Hugo only plays with the food, listlessly.

-

The entire Weasley clan lounges in the sitting room after dinner, filling it with bright banter and running children. Hugo sits on the fireplace, chin resting on his hand. Lily attempts to coerce him into a game of pretend, but Hugo really doesn't feel like playing the puppy or Daddy or whatever else humiliating Lily has in mind. Sullenly, he guards his position on the hearth. He doesn't understand how everyone can just sit around as if everything is just wonderful.

After dinner, his mum pulled him aside. "Not everyone is fond of him as you are, darling," she whispers, attempting to explain. "They don't really expect him to come."

"He'll come, you'll see!" Hugo responded hotly.

That had been two hours ago. Hugo, disheartened, trudges past his chatting uncles and gossiping aunts and to the peace of the empty kitchen. He watches the Family Clock, with its many hands. _In Transit_. In transit, where? For how long? Here? Abruptly, little Hugo hears the fireplace roar to life; he rushes to the sound.

A tall, gangly figure unfolds from the hearth. He looks absolutely exhausted, with sloping shoulders and lines already pinching the corners of his eyes and mouth. Hugo brightens immediately and throws himself at the cloaked figure. "You didn't forget!" he cheers, burying his face into the cloak that smells of pine and spearmint. Percy Weasley takes hold of Hugo's shoulders and kneels down to eye level, hazel meeting bright blue. Uncle Percy looks strained and worn, spectacles sliding down his nose, but manages a genuine smile.

"How could I, Hugo?" he asks, cuffing his nephew gently on the head. "You're the best nephew there is!" Hugo nods emphatically. No one else treats or teaches him like Uncle Percy! Percy looks to the kitchen. "You missed dinner for me?" His uncle's expression softens and something – gratitude? love? – flits across his face. Hugo nods, feeling a bit shy and flushes when his stomach growls thereafter. Percy chuckles, "Let us go, then. Want a ride?"

"Yeah!" Hugo answers eagerly, wrapping his arms around Percy's neck. "Let's go!! And can we play chess afterwards?"

"Of course, Hugo. I hope you have been practising with your father! I'm not going to hold back on you," Percy says jokingly, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. Uncle Percy grunts a little as he stands and walks slowly to the kitchen.

Every single family member simply watches in wonderment.

-

_Author's Note_: Yes, a tad long, I know! I couldn't help it! I might do a second chapter later on to further explore the relationship between Uncle Perce and Hugo, just because it can be so interesting. I do hope you enjoyed! Reviews, of course, are always welcome.


	3. colour

**Favourite  
**_iii. colour_

Hugo is home for the holidays, his first holiday of his first year. Walking out of the kitchen, he balances a ham sandwich in his hand, a plate of cookies in the crook of his arm, and a glass of milk in the other. He always needs a snack when reading. Nearly dropping his precious snack, Hugo unsuccessfully fumbles with the door to the library. Then he hears voices.

"I can't believe that he –" Dad.

"_Ron_, for Merlin's sake. A lot of good people—Honestly, I don't know why you still cling to your absolutely antiquated preconceptions." Mum.

"But, he's a _Hufflepuff_!" Ron Weasley sputters.

"He has good marks, he has friends… he's not socially incompetent, or anything, Ron. I can't believe you!" Hugo can almost see his Mum shaking her head incredulously.

Hugo blinks for a moment. They only could be talking about him. Right now, Hugo is the only Hufflepuff in the Weasley clan. He backs away from the library, back into the kitchen and to the table. The plates clatter onto the table. Hufflepuff wasn't a bad house, or anything. Not a house of the duffers, the oddballs, and the socially awkward. There were a few odd ones out, but even they were nice folk. Hugo takes a bite of the sandwich. 'Not enough mayonnaise,' he notes, chewing.

His Dad was strange like that, sometimes, clinging to certain ideas. Hugo swallows. But does it mean that his father isn't proud of him? This worries him a bit; he admires his Dad immensely. Ron Weasley was sparse with the compliments and had a difficult time expressing them, but it just meant more when he did. A frown creases Hugo's brow.

The Library door opens, and his parents stomp out. They both halt abruptly, seeing him at the table. Hugo is almost finished eating. He carries the dishes and puts them in the sink.

"I like being in Hufflepuff," Hugo comments, brushing past them. Ron and Hermione trade glances. Ron's shoulders fall.

For the next week Hugo only wears yellow and a frown.

--

_Author's Note_: It's been a while, but the recent trailers for Half-Blood Price are enough to spur my creative writing.


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